


Heaven

by hummun323



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Genji is a Little Shit, M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, Pre-Relationship, Tooth Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 15:58:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10131170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummun323/pseuds/hummun323
Summary: Hanzo doesn't believe he's worthy of the attention of the beloved group member, Jesse McCree. Jesse tames him like a scared animal and tries to show him he is worth it. I was feeling sad so I made fluff.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my hell, where there is McHanzo and everything I write I name after songs.

**_~When the room don't like us_**  
**_I'll be at your table_**  
**_Yeah I'll be sitting next to you_** ** _~_** __  
  
  


It was just another day of group bonding. Everyone was to gather in the common room for a video game and movie day. It would consist of mainly watching the younger members play video games and movies would be queued up in the evening after dinner. “Required” group bonding, if Hanzo had anything to say about it. But he was more or less dragged into the group gathering by his brother against his will. 

 

“You won’t make allies living in your room like a hermit,” he’d said.

 

That would be the point, Hanzo wanted to argue. The elusive dragon had made sure to claim the couch as far as he could from anyone else. He did not participate in any games, try as the others could to ply him into Just Dance version number who-could-even-keep-track-anymore or Mario Olympics number who-cares. Not that they tried very hard after a couple of very harsh ‘no’s and a glare that could peel paint.

 

The remaining couch space had remained empty next to Hanzo, his presence too intimidating for anyone to try and attempt to engage and include the Japanese man, let alone be near him. After all these years alone, Hanzo didn’t have to acknowledge that the subconscious actions by the group didn’t hurt. This is exactly the reason he would have rather stayed in his room, or used the practice range while no one else was, or exercised, or  _ anything else but sit here and be ignored anyway. _ Hanzo should be used to it. 

  


Jesse McCree came in far later, to the point where Hanzo had been complaining to his brother that if the silly cowman hadn’t showed up, why should he? But Jesse McCree seemed to be the exception. Amazingly, the gunslinger seems to have no qualms about sitting next to Hanzo. He plopps his large frame down hard on the couch cushion next to the archer. He was without his hat and serape and even his trusty spurs for once, exchanging his battle outfit for sweatpants and a short sleeved shirt. Hanzo had never seen the cowboy so dressed down before.  

 

Of course, he doesn’t engage Hanzo in conversation first, instead asking the whole room what he missed. It’s like he brought the sunlight in from outside, the way everyone seems happy to see him and how the room swells with joy and light. Everyone adores Jesse. They fill him in on the shenanigans he missed. Hanzo can’t help but feel jealous. Not in this lifetime could he get attention and adoration like that. Not that he wants that kind of attention. Or does he? He folds his arms in tight around himself, as if he can hold himself together. 

 

Coming out here was a mistake and he wishes he could just be back in his room, away from people who clearly don’t want him there. But a prickly feeling on his skin and a quick glance up show that his brother’s impassive face mask seems to be staring right at him, as if Genji read his mind. The mask seems to say back, “you aren’t even trying, brother, so don’t think you can just ninja your way out of this room without me knowing.”

 

How does his mask say so much?

 

Hanzo just huffs, looking away from the glowering and glowing green line. A simple gathering of people is making him feel like he could vibrate to pieces and fall apart.

 

“Hey.”

 

Hanzo starts. Is Jesse McCree talking to him?

 

His head whips around and the cowboy is indeed staring right at him. He spoke low enough that no one else’s attention will be called to the wary dragon. Jesse gets the feeling that Hanzo’s like a caged tiger, pacing and afraid, about to jump and run at any moment. 

 

_ Taut as his own bowstring _ , Jesse thinks to himself.

 

“Hello,” Hanzo replies dryly back.

 

“How are you tonight?” Jesse tries to engage again. 

 

Hanzo wonders why the cowboy cares. “Just...fine?”

 

“You sure?” Jesse smiles at him. “Cuz you don’t sound sure. Or look it.”

 

Hanzo scowls as he debates whether to be honest or just let the matter drop. “I don’t do...this. People.” He makes a sweeping gesture to the rowdy group in front of him. 

 

Jesse watches the group for a little bit. “Yeah, I can understand that. They can be pretty high energy when they want to be, especially the more you get into one small room.” It would almost be easier to list who wasn’t present, most of them the older adults. But Lena, McCree, and Hanzo are here, and everyone younger than them. Jesse chuckles to himself. “Almost sounds like a math equation: how much energy can Overwatch generate in a certain sized room and with a certain age group?” Jesse chuckles at his own joke, but Hanzo doesn’t even so much as smile, causing Jesse’s laugh to taper off into an awkward silence.

 

“Want to step out for a bit?” Jesse asks. “Go get some snacks or something to drink?”

 

Hanzo again wants to point at himself and ask, “who, me?” Surely the cowboy does not want to spend time with  _ him _ ? But he is clearly staring at him, the question directed only  _ to _ him. 

 

“That would be...nice, yes.” The two of them stand and Jesse gestures that he’ll follow Hanzo into the kitchen. 

 

Genji watches the two of them leaving like a hawk.

 

“Just getting some snacks, Genji, geez,” McCree turns and tells the cyborg, as if the burning gaze into his back wasn’t enough of an indication that he’d been spying on his brother. Hanzo’s face burns slightly with embarrassment. as he feels like everyone in the room is now watching him leave with McCree.

 

“Pick your poison,” is Jesse’s way of offering to make Hanzo anything he suggests. 

 

Away from the energy of the room and potential gazes and imagined judgement, Hanzo feels like he can breath easier already. He rubs at his arms absently.

  


“Tea will suffice.”

 

“Sure thing, partner. How’d you like it?” Winston isn’t the only stickler for details and organization around the watch point, so everything is neatly labeled; a place for everything and everything in its place. Jesse opens the cabinet known for having hot water drinks and finds a plethora of options. “We seem to have plain black tea, green tea, English breakfast, Earl Grey-”

 

“Black. Like my soul,” Hanzo answers before the gunslinger can continue to list off teas.

 

That stops Jesse up short and not because he would have bet Hanzo picked the green tea and lost. He turns a worried gaze onto the archer, but Hanzo isn’t paying him any attention, instead staring off into space. Jesse’s face softens in empathy. He can only imagine how Hanzo must be feeling: a new person to Overwatch with no one to interact with, no one that seems to want to interact with him beyond polite pleasantries. Knowing Hanzo as little as he does, he can imagine that for those people it can seem like pulling teeth. Jesse can relate to a time in his life when he was like that.

 

A few minutes pass and a steaming cup is placed in front of Hanzo by a metal, prosthetic hand. Hanzo looks up to a softly smiling cowboy as said man sits down beside him. Hanzo cups the mug in his hands, enjoying the warmth seeping into his hands and letting the liquid cool before taking a sip.

 

The reaction is instantaneous. Jesse didn’t know how the archer would like his tea beyond ‘black’ and he’d looked too zoned out for Jesse to want to disturb him, opting to let the introvert recharge or meditate or whatever he might need to do. He’d done what he usually does for his own tea (he is a Southern gentleman, after all, and occasionally partakes with Lena or Fareeha or Satya) and added a bit of sugar and milk. It wasn’t a great cooking secret or anything. But from the very first sip, the archer visibly relaxes, shoulders slumping, spine curving as he leans back in the chair, and for once Hanzo’s face doesn’t look like he’s about to melt something with laser vision.

 

To Jesse, it’s an awe inspiring sight. So that’s one secret the archer is hiding; give him a good cup of tea and he just melts. He files that away for later as he takes a sip of his own hot drink. 

 

“Your soul’s not black, you know.” 

 

Hanzo’s brown eyes snap open, flicking to the gunslinger. He places the mug down and his shoulders immediately hunch up again, as if he can curl up and hide in himself.

 

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that,” Hanzo grumbles.

 

Jesse hears the challenge in the man’s voice. What he’s really saying is, “look at all my crimes, my past misdeeds, and tell me I’m not evil.” Well, Jesse’s not about to back down from this challenge. He turns to face the archer as well and regards the archer. He stares long enough that Hanzo starts to feel uncomfortable, getting that prickling sensation that his brother’s watchful gaze gives him. His gaze snaps up to Jesse and his eyes widen with just how intently Jesse is staring at him. 

 

Now that their eyes are locked, Hanzo won’t look away, but it’s clear he’s getting more and more uncomfortable. Jesse watches his eyes flicker as if he wants to break contact, but now it’s a challenge neither one will back down from. But the cowboy doesn’t want to make Hanzo more uncomfortable than he’s already been today and finally breaks his gaze.

 

“To be honest, darling, there’s some black in there, but nothing to work yourself up over,” Jesse finally declares, leaning back in his chair. He sees something flash in the dragon wielder’s eyes, something disbelieving and maybe wonder? It’s gone in a flash and Hanzo glowers.

 

“I almost believed you there, cowman,” Hanzo says before turning back to the table and sipping his tea once again.

 

_ I wish you would _ , Jesse thought.

 

“Aw, Hanzo, we all got a little darkness. You should hear about mine sometime. I can’t judge you for your past when I’m no saint myself.”

 

Hanzo stares at McCree in disbelief. “I’d like that,” he replies after a while. “To hear your stories.” Jesse gives him a gentle smile in return. 

 

When their drinks are done, Jesse returns them to the sink to be washed later. He places a gentle hand on Hanzo’s shoulder.

 

“Wanna head back in? Sounds like they settled down and started a movie.”

 

 _Only if you’ll sit with me_ , Hanzo almost says out loud. Instead, his eyes flick down to the hand on his shoulder. Jesse removes it as if he’s been burned, as if he’s pushed a boundary he didn’t know was there. Alright, the archer wants his personal space, Jesse won’t press it. Hanzo looks up at Jesse and simply nods.  
  


 

The two return to the whole room gathered around a glowing TV and dimmed lighting, watching the latest Disney cartoon. Almost two hundred years, and that company can still churn out colorful, musical montages. Once they stopped relying on European fairy tales and started using other cultures’ stories, the company had been a powerhouse of production, even through two more wars. At least they hadn’t gone back to their days of war propaganda. 

 

The couch that Hanzo had vacated still remains empty, but he sits as far from the group as he can, already tensing up again. He expects Jesse will join the group clustered around the TV and is surprised when instead Jesse sits beside him again. Hanzo even notices he sits a bit closer than he did before.

 

As the movie progresses, Hanzo doesn’t notice that Jesse somehow moves closer and closer to him until eventually Hanzo realizes that Jesse’s warm body is pressed against his side. He flinches away suddenly, scooting as far away as he can, but he was already against the arm.

 

“Do not touch me!” He hisses so no one else will turn from the movie to stare at him. Stare at him scolding the group’s golden child. His lips purse when he realizes that sounded a lot harsher than he intended. “Please,” he adds. Although it has been a very long time since he had another body pressed against his, sharing warmth-

  


Jesse will not give up so easily. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” he coos lowly. “It’s just a cuddle. You need to relax. Here,” Jesse sits up and opens his arms. As if he didn’t notice just how long it took Hanzo to realize he was leaning against the other man. 

 

Hanzo eyes him dubiously, as if his arms are a bear trap waiting to spring.

 

“Come on, darling, I don’t bite,” Jesse chuckles. Hanzo’s eyes flick nervously to the group.

 

“Don’t worry about them, sugar. Pretend they aren’t even here. It’s just you and me. You can trust me, can’t you?”  _ Please say yes, _ Jesse begs internally.  _ I don’t want to hurt you. It’s going to be okay, Hanzo. Please.  _ If Hanzo could read Jesse’s thoughts, he’d probably be furious how Jesse is treating him like a spooked animal.  _ Then he needs to stop acting like one… _ Thank goodness mind reading isn’t Hanzo’s superpower.

 

Slowly, so slowly that Jesse forgets to breath, Hanzo slowly moves in and settles himself against Jesse’s body and Jesse drapes his flesh arm across Hanzo’s shoulders. It isn’t much by most definitions of cuddling.

 

_ But it sure is a start _ , Jesse thinks as he feels Hanzo start to relax against him. He absently starts to rub circles on the shoulder under his hand and Jesse almost misses the pleased noise that rumbles from the archer over the noise of the movie.

  
_It’s a start_.

  


**_~Everyone may say that we don't work_**  
**_But I could swear this is heaven, yeah_**  
**_Everyday I know that this might hurt but I don't care_**  
**_This is heaven, yeah_** ** _~_**


End file.
